Abu Ali and his family were at the main gates, all resplendent in black-and-red-striped robes, ceremonial swords at their belts. Elenya wiped away tears, knowing it would be years before she again saw her adopted sister.
At the Wakil's order, the servants had gathered to sing good-byes to the beloved Lamiya. Their songs proclaimed her graciousness, beauty, and kindness above all mortal women, and though a reasonable man might have doubted their sincerity, their volume and sweet harmonies were above reproach.
Abu Ali was the first to speak and give blessing. "Lamiya," he said from horseback, "the daughter of my heart. May your passage be swift and joyous, and your return like the wind."
Ali joined in. "I will sing a prayer for your safe return every night, and every morning, until we are wed."
Sitting by the coach's red-rimmed window, Lamiya turned her gaze shyly away, as befitted a maiden of her standing.
Elenya edged her mount forward. "I made this for you," she said, handing Lamiya a garland woven of twigs. It was a simple, beautiful thing, and the Imperial niece mounted it on her head with pride.
"I will treasure it always," she said, and gave Elenya a kiss.
"Your ship awaits," Abu Ali said. "Travel well!"
As the Arabians began to trot forward, Lamiya's eyes meet Kai's. He had said nothing. He didn't wave as the slaves sang a song for safe passage.
Instead, in a reaction that confused him, he searched the crowd, hoping to see a certain pale face.
When he could not, he bent and asked old Festus, "Have you seen Aidan?"
The gray-hair nodded sadly. "His mother is very sick, sir."
In the darkness of her hovel, quietly and without any fuss, Deirdre lay dying. Aidan, hands shaking as he moistened a small towel and applied it to her forehead, knew this to be true. As did Deirdre. Auntie Moira provided food and herbs and poultices, and more important, whispered the words of the treoraich anama soul-leading ceremony that would guide her soul to the gates of heaven.
"Now is the wistful soul set free
Outside the coich anama
Christ all-knowing, all-seeing, thy blessing
Surrounds with love in your good time . . ."
Moira sang this and other songs, and soothed Deirdre's brow, and when there was nothing left to do, at last left to claim a few precious hours of sleep before returning to begin once again.
Now it was just Aidan and his mother, and the last painful hours of her life. Deirdre was hot-eyed and haggard. "Aidan?" Fever had run her voice ragged.
"Here, Mother," he said.
Distantly, through the open window, he could hear the sound of the slaves singing. He knew that that meant Lamiya and her party were leaving. Good. He wished to God that they would all leave. Or curl up and die.
Or allow him to board that ship with his mother and go home.
"Aidan . . . ?" she called, more distantly this time.
"I'm here. Right here."
"I'm so sorry." She tried to sit up but had no strength. All strength had been exhausted in the effort to stay alive another night. Her eyes were rimmed with dark wet crescents and she struggled with every breath, as if her lungs were filling with a viscous fluid.
He eased her back down. "You have nothing to apologize for. Rest."
"I'm leaving you here," she said in a thickened voice. "In this terrible place. This awful . . ."
She cried out in a garble of languages. "Oh, God, An labhraíonn éinne anseo Gaeilge? Who will take care of my boy! My boy!"
Aidan felt panic hammering at the doors of his control, splintering them. "Mother. I'll be all right. You'll be all right."
"No, I won't," she said, rejecting his desperate lie. "No, I won't. I pray . . ." But her strength had failed, and she could speak no longer. The sounds issuing from her mouth were no longer words. Aidan leaned his head against her chest, and she placed one frail hand on his shoulder, even now, at the last, offering what comfort she could.
Aidan held her. "I'll be all right, Mother," he wept. "I swear. I'll find a way to live. I'll be free. We'll be free, I swear, Mother, I'll be free for both of us. I'll find Nessa. We'll be a family again . . ."
Her hand seemed to squeeze his briefly, and then it drifted down, as gently as a leaf.
"Mother?" There was no answer. The next sound torn from Aidan's throat was a raw, hopeless sound, brutal in its intensity. "Mother!"
The room seemed emptier, darker now. Aidan O'Dere, boy lost in a monstrous land, held his mother's cooling body, and shrieked his pain into the night.
Chapter Twenty-four
"Short is the span of the mortal heart
Long is the length of grieving,
Deep is the wound only time can heal,
Shallow the words of comforting—"
Bearing torches, ringing the tree line in their hundreds, the inhabitants of Ghost Town had gathered in the grove in Deirdre's honor, offering their hearts and voices to her spirit.
Tears glistened on Aidan's cheeks, but his mouth did not tremble as the songs wove through the trees.
"Dark is the day when the news is first heard
Bright is the sun with its passing.
Brief is the crossing from life into death,
Endless, the soul everlasting.
Great is the loss of those left now behind
Small are the troubles of ord'nary day
Tightly we hold to thy memory,
Freely we wish thee upon thy way . . .
Freely we wish thee upon thy way . . ."
As they concluded, the slaves filed out, one at a time offering condolence. Brian clasped Aidan's shoulder. "Be strong, boy. You'll never need for meat, or shelter. I swear it." His voice was husky, but in it Aidan could have sworn he could detect an echo of his father's own strength. "She'll sleep well here, among her people. God gave her life. Our masters gave her death." An edge as hard as steel lurked in those words, and Aidan gazed up at Brian, who was looking mildly upon the earthen mound. "Be strong," he said. "A time will come, I promise."
"When?"
"When you're man enough to strike blows in Deirdre's memory. Would you like that, boy?"
Little muscles twitched at the corner of Aidan's jaw. His blue eyes, though filmed with tears, were like fire.
Brian squeezed Aidan's shoulder, then left the boy alone with his agony. When the last of the villagers left the grove, Aidan's legs turned to wet straw. He collapsed, clinging to the rude cross above his mother's grave, struggling not to revile the God who had brought them to this accursed land. He struck his forehead against the wood over and over again, lost in pain and fear and grief.
Late the next day Kai walked beside one of the western streams that fed into Lake A’zam, mired in his own thoughts. His father's lands extended for miles in all directions save east, but much of it remained undeveloped. More cultivated was the northern land, where grew endless fields of hemp and teff. Further still lay ground scarred with quarries, where hard, dangerous work produced more stone than any mines in the province.
The wealth was divided between Abu Ali and his brother, Malik, as it would one day be divided between Ali and Kai.
No thoughts of future wealth or power brought Kai the slightest bit of pleasure. He felt disconnected from himself, his life, his station—even his family. Kai just walked, thinking, trying to find a way to hold his feelings that made sense. Why was the world as it was? Why did we care about people only to lose them? Why were feelings not entered into whatever calculations adults made when they designed their days?
And in Allah's name, what exactly was it that he felt for Lamiya, and was he sinful to feel it?
Until he found an answer to those questions, he would be baffled and bothered and heartbroken.
He was turning the pieces around and around in his mind when he saw Aidan sitting on the edge of the stream running through the woods west of the pasture. The slave boy sat alone. Kai knew of Aidan's loss and felt momentarily guilty that he had not sought him out be
fore now. He had seen but six summers when his own mother died and remembered little of her but her ethereal beauty, the warmth of her breast, the sound of her voice whispering his name, and the liquid-rose scent of her hair oil. He remembered kneeling at her bed during her final fever, praying that Allah might allow her to utter one last word of love, afford him a last precious smile.
Allah answers all prayers, but sometimes the answer is no.
Kai approached carefully and sat at Aidan's side in the grass on the stream bank.
For a long time neither spoke, and then Kai said: "I'm sorry about your mother."
Aidan said nothing, but he dug into the dirt at his side, palmed a small rock, and tossed it out.
"My mother died when I was six," Kai said.
Aidan didn't look at him. "You have a father," he said. "A brother, a sister. An uncle."
Kai felt the truth in those simple words. For a terrible moment he saw himself as this boy, lost and alone. No mother, no father . . . it was fortunate that Kai's father provided all needs to the servants, or Aidan's suffering might have been unendurable indeed.
Aidan tossed another stone out into the stream. "I have a sister. Somewhere." Aidan leaned forward and sank his face into his hands.
Kai picked up a stone and skipped it out across the water. "I hate this place," he said, shocking himself with the admission.
Aidan stared at him in utter disbelief, and opened his mouth as if about to say something poisonous. Then he seemed to realize that his young master was being utterly sincere. The absurdity of it struck him, twisted his mouth from an expression of grief to one of shock.
"Hate it," Kai repeated.
"That's really strange," Aidan replied, with blackest irony. "Because I love it."
Kai stared at him, and Aidan turned away, and was suddenly laughing and crying at the same time, and Kai laughed too, utterly hysterical laughter, laughter on the hot edge of tears that rang through the woods and swelled to drown even their pain. But it lasted just a moment, and then the moment was gone.
Kai watched the water flowing south, to the lake and then to the ocean beyond. And reached a decision.
"Come on," he said, and stood, tugging at Aidan's hand.
"Where?" Aidan looked up at him in irritation.
"Just come," Kai said, and then added: "Please."
The storeroom was dim, and a bit dank. The boys had snuck through the kitchen, pretending to be on their way to Kai's room, then ducked through the pantry into the dark of the stairs.
Kai tested the door, turned the knob and opened it stealthily, trying to prevent it from creaking. He poked his head in. "Shhh," he said.
"What is this?" Aidan said.
Kai silenced him until the door was closed, then found the firegun and used it to light the wall lamp. "We keep the qinnab bûza here. It's for the workers, for harvest celebration."
"Hemp beer?"
The room was filled with boxes and kegs large and small. Kai rummaged, and finally picked out a keg the size of his head. "Come on," he whispered, and Aidan helped him with their illicit load. The Prophet, peace be upon him, forbade the drinking of spirits, but surely, Allah Ar-Rahman, the Most Merciful, would pardon a small transgression on a night such as this.
Together they spirited it up the stairs. Kai scouted ahead, checked to see that no one in the kitchen was watching, and then motioned Aidan onward. Together they escaped into the yard.
No one spied them as they climbed through the pasture fence and headed out to the woods, finally reaching the clearing where a few months earlier Kai and Lamiya had met by chance.
When they had settled themselves safely behind a bush, Kai scraped the layer of wax off the cork, knocked it out of the bunghole, and took a mouthful, spraying half of it back out before managing to swallow some. It was sour and vile, but remembering Ali's oath that it cured all pains of the heart, he managed to gag it down.
"Here, I'll show you," Aidan said, and got Kai to hold the keg steady for him as he poured a golden stream into his mouth. His eyes went wide.
"You've done this before?" Kai asked.
Aidan nodded enthusiastically. He swallowed, took another mouthful, and swallowed again. "Good!"
A half hour later the two boys were roaring with sick, helpless gales of mirth.
Kai upended the keg, gulping another mouthful and choking it down. He didn't quite manage to swallow it all before the residue exploded from his mouth in another hysterical spray.
"Oh, no," he gasped. The world wheeled like a kite with a broken string, and he fought to find the thread of conversation they had begun just before the last round of drinks. "You're the one who has it easy. You work a'day—" He paused, fighting to keep his speech coherent. "All day, but then you go back, and you can do wha'ever you want, with whoever you want, whenever you want." Kai wiped the back of his hand against his lips. "Me? It's study study study, responsible for the whole place one day, marry who they tell me."
Aidan glared at him and snatched the keg away. "You are so full of zibl." Aidan took a long pull and bolted down an entire mouthful of the powerful stuff.
Kai knew he should have taken offense at that last comment, but somehow the qinnab bûza just made everything seem sort of warm and mushy. He was having trouble putting his sentences together. The hemp beer seemed to have a double effect. One wave of intoxication hit suddenly, and then a second seemed to come on more slowly, pulling his feet from under him like a patient opponent waiting for him to drop his guard. "Ahh," he said as Aidan choked it down. "If you really knew, you'd be happy to be white. An' a slave. When the Aztecs come, you don't have to go off and fight an' die. Oh, no—you have strong black arms to protect you.
"Not all that strong," Aidan sneered.
"Oh yeah?"
"All that fancy fightin'? I'd kick your arse."
"Well," Kai said belligerently, slapping his chest. "I'm right here."
"I'm here," Aidan replied. "Stand up."
Kai tried to stand, but wobbled, and Aidan had to catch him. "Whoops!" They were both giggling now.
Another couple of attempts and they were finally standing fairly straight. "Ready?"
"Ready to send you to Allah," Kai said. "Should have been praying."
"Praying?" Aidan said. "Praying that I don't kill you." He paused, considering. "Too much."
Kai threw a punch. It hit Aidan's shoulder and he spun, but grabbed Kai and wrestled him to the ground. Kai scrambled up and looped another punch. Aidan dodged, and Kai nailed him in the mouth with the left hand, and then another right. Shock ran up his wrist, but the second punch made a perfectly satisfying splat as it split Aidan's lip.
Aidan collapsed to one knee, and levered himself up unsteadily.
"See there?" Kai said, fists balled. "Infidel slave-dog, the righteous shall—"
Aidan rapped him squarely in the mouth. Kai blinked, more startled than hurt. Aidan hurled another punch but Kai slipped it, grabbed him and they both fell down. They tangled in the grass, flailing about and laughing like a pair of loons. Then finally collapsed.
"I win," Kai managed to pant.
"Crap," Aidan said. "Let's start again."
"I can't stand up," Kai complained. Then tried, and failed.
"I win," Aidan said, and collapsed on the ground next to him.
Kai looked at Aidan for a long moment, and then pulled his knife. Aidan watched, more puzzled than fearful as Kai pressed the blade against his own left thumb. Kai flinched, and then a red drop of blood welled up. Kai stared at it, fascinated, then remembered his purpose and passed the knife to Aidan.
Aidan looked at the blade suspiciously. "What's this?"
"It's a knife."
Aidan snorted. "I know that. What do you want me to do with it?"
"You don't have any family," Kai said matter-of-factly. "And I don't have any friends. Blood to blood."
Aidan looked at Kai's bandaged right thumb. "Like that?"
"Uh-huh."
"You're runn
ing out of thumbs," Aidan said. He paused, then nodded and pricked his finger. He leaned over and pressed his thumb against Kai's.
Perhaps due to the effects of the qinnab bûza, Kai felt something. A warmth, perhaps. A tingle, spreading up his arm and into his chest, and he was startled by the impact as their eyes met.
Then the intensity of the moment was broken by laughter and they tumbled back down to the grass, head to head under the swirling sky.
Aidan blinked hard. "It's like the sky in Eire," he said.
Kai stared up, the stars doubling in his wavering gaze. "What's it like there?"
"Beautiful," Aidan said. "Another world." He pressed his palms against his temples. "Ohh, my head is spinning. Another, other world. So close to here." He turned to Kai, grinning. "And in that world, I live in the palace, and you work in the fields."
Kai started to bark laughter, and instead, somewhat to his surprise, it died on his lips. Instead, he asked quietly, "Do you think we'd still be friends?"
Aidan smiled. "Insh'Allah," he said.
"Insh'Allah," Kai replied, and for a long time they watched the sky, and listened to the night wind moving through the grass, saying nothing at all.
PART THREE
Sophia
"The unifying and transcendant aspects of the Creator impinge themselves upon the universe," said the Master. "What we cannot understand of His process we sometimes consider miraculous."
"What is this called?" asked the student.
"The Divine Theophony."
"And what is an instance of this miracle?"
"The Prophet once said that there were three things that gave him peace: prayer, perfume, and women."
"And the miracle?"
"Prayer joins us to the divine. Perfume to the world of the senses."
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